


And It's Been Here

by anr



Category: The Pretender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-06
Updated: 2007-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-05 15:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/pseuds/anr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She prefers the sting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And It's Been Here

**Author's Note:**

> "Silent All These Years" (Tori Amos)

_well, i love the way we communicate_

  


* * *

  


The clues arrive like clockwork, meticulous breadcrumbs leading her down a fairytale path.

"Parker," he says, and today her name sounds like a question and a plea and something she's not willing to acknowledge, not while at the Centre.

"See you soon," she says, and lets Lyle catch her smirking.

  


* * *

  


Broots guides them to Chicago and Lyle insists on taking point.

" _Your_ team," he says dismissively, "will cover the street."

They argue.

(She wins.)

  


* * *

  


She tells Broots to pull up the schematics for every building on the block, just in case, and threatens his pension when he almost hesitates. Sydney wanders away with Sam to cover the side entrance.

She paces the street, waits, and at exactly four-oh-two a school bus passes. She stares after it thoughtfully.

At four-oh-three she tells Broots to stay with the sweepers and walks away.

  


* * *

  


She finds him two blocks over, lounging against an alley wall, half hidden in the shadows. He watches her approach.

"You're insane," she says, taking in the white shirt, tie, and name tag ( _Jarod Grant_ \-- she almost expected it to read, _Jarod Otto_ ).

He grins and pushes off the wall. Steps close enough to skim his fingers along her arm. "And you're late."

It starts to rain.

  


* * *

  


Jarod pins her against the wall, his forearms flat on the bricks and caging her head.

"How long do we have?" he asks, breath hot on her neck.

She works her hands into his coat, fingers skimming the curve of his belt. "Long enough."

She's lying and they both know it. Neither of them care.

  


* * *

  


She tastes rain when she kisses him. Rain and coffee and sugar -- probably pez.

His hands leave the wall, running down her body like water. When she shifts her stance, legs parting further, he presses in and rocks his hips against hers. Her fingers curl into his belt loops and hold him there until she can't breathe, until he's robbed her of everything from oxygen to secrets and maybe a few answers beside.

(The real secret, of course, is that there _are_ no answers, but they're too good at pretending otherwise to stop searching now.)

Her hands move towards the warm flesh of his back, and she frowns when the gun tucked into the back of his pants tangles in the edges of the shirt she's trying to breach. He breaks off the kiss and licks the rain from her throat. His hands rise to touch her cheeks, her jaw, tugging at the collar of her shirt so that he can nuzzle the curve where her neck meets her shoulder.

She closes her eyes when he says her name.

  


* * *

  


A flash of movement.

In an instant his hands are locked around her neck and she follows suit by raising up onto her toes, her hair catching on the bricks. They both know what this will look like.

"Drop her!" The sweeper is one of Lyle's, new and not entirely house broken if his wide eyes and too loud voice are anything to go by. " _Now_!"

Jarod's thumb strokes against her pulse and she resists the urge to smile. She pulls her hands away from his body, collecting his gun as she does.

"Go get the car," she tells the sweeper as Jarod lets her go and steps back, hands held out and high as she presses the gun barrel to his chest, "you moron!"

Under his breath, Jarod says, "close," as the sweeper turns and darts away.

She nods and grins; lets him reach out and pull her to him for a kiss that is hard and desperate, his fingers digging into the wet strands of her hair and his gun still caught between them. "Do it," she says against his mouth, dragging her nails down the back of his neck. " _Come on_."

She makes sure she's still grinning when he pulls away and backhands her hard enough for the sound to echo off the bricks.

" _Fuck_ ," she hisses, dropping to her knees, and he winces, leaning down as if to touch her cheek. "Don't be stupid," she says, pushing him away and looking up at him through the falling rain.

His expression is resigned as he nods, fists clenching uselessly by his sides.

She watches him walk away.

  


* * *

  


The sweepers return with a car and find her prostrate on the ground, feigning concussion.

She's (not) surprised to hear that Lyle's raid of the lair was a bust.

  


* * *

  


Lyle watches as Broots tries to hand her a cool compress. She ignores it, preferring the sting.

"Strangulation, physical assault -- unusually aggressive this time," he says, staring at her mouth, "don't you think, Doctor?"

Sydney offers up an explanation that is psychologically sound, and she tells Broots to find her some makeup.

  


* * *

  


Jarod calls and she cuts him off every time the words _I'm sorry_ sound like they're about to appear. They both knew what this game would involve when they started it.

"Jarod," she says, and his name is an invitation.

A quick intake of air; she imagines he's smiling. "See you soon," he says and hangs up.

She grins. 

  


* * *

The End

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGINAL URL: <http://anr.livejournal.com/283455.html>


End file.
